


Barcelona

by phinamin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Dancer AU, Dirty Talk, Drunk Jack, Gabe is a dance teacher, Jack is a Little Shit, M/M, Overwatch - Freeform, Rough Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 04:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10378071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinamin/pseuds/phinamin
Summary: Jack Morrison is a soldier.Gabriel is a dance teacher.They collide in Barcelona, then smut ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to put the dancing woman emoji as a summary but I don't think that would've been acceptable. 
> 
> Huge shout out to my munchkin and my handsome bro for reading over this and making sure its not a complete failure. I love y'all. 
> 
> This is my first time writing an Overwatch!Au or smut, so please enjoy. 
> 
> Comments are always welcomed <3 Don't be shy!!
> 
> {I advise listening to 'Barcelona' by Ed Sheeran while reading this}

It was hot and sticky and about to be the best night of Jack Morrison’s life. With his two left feet, both shoeless and sockless, he shook his hips back and forth. The establishment _Cerberus_ was filled with people he didn’t know, music he couldn’t understand the lyrics to and he had drunken enough to feel the fire burn in his veins. The moon shone through the windows, all-seeing, bathing the dimly lit, wooden interior in a silvery hue. In one hand the red wine bottle (2003, Spain, Pinot Noir), he twirled around on the dance floor. The DJ was blasting local music with a beat, bodies were swaying to it and the small restaurant that had been improvised into a club was full to the brim.

 

***

 

“Está borracho.“

(He’s drunk.)

 

The bartender, a woman well into her thirties with long dark hair, a soft smile but cold eyes, was cleaning yet another beer mug as she nodded towards the only person _not_ tanned from the Spanish sun. Gabriel Reyes, conveniently a dance teacher in this little city he liked to call home – others might refer to it as _Barcelona_ – looked up from the book he was reading to watch the uncoordinated white man _try his best_.

 

“Déjalo ser. Parece estar divirtiéndose, Ana.“

(Let him be. He seems to be having fun, Ana.)

 

His gruff voice matched his equally standoffish exterior. While he enjoyed his childhood friend’s restaurant turned club turned café (depending on the time of day) as much as any other costumer twisting and shimmying their bodies right now, he was only here to scare off drunks and hillbillies. He owned her for the one time he had shown up, drunk himself, on her doorstep with a head wound and a crooked smile.

 

“'aetaqid alnnas fi halat sakr alrraqs 'afdil. 'ay quyud. He does not seem to know anything about dancing.“

(I thought drunk people dance better. No restrictions.)

 

Gabe just shrugged, not wanting to test out his very flaky Arabic with one or two whiskeys in his system. Ana Amari just watched him for a second, before shaking her head with an all-knowing smile. He tried to best her and her pesky thoughts and smile, but in the end he craved and turned his head back to the man lifting his hands above his head, swaying off beat to a slow song with the biggest smile on his lips.

 

***

 

The cool air felt good on Jack’s sweat soaked skin. He could feel the dips and cracks of the stone pavement when he wiggled his toes. Taking a swing from the now almost empty wine bottle, the man turned his blue eyes towards the sky and started to count the stars above his head. They shimmered and sparkled, dotting the dark canvas like diamonds.

 

“¿Qué tal un poco de agua, guapo?“

(How about some water, handsome?)

 

Jack’s eyes lazily tore themselves away from the sky above and he shared a smile with the bartender, not much older than himself. She held out a cup of water. Not intending to be rude, he accepted, not sure if the flush on his cheeks he felt was from her beauty or the alcohol. It was very possible from both.

  
“Yo no hablo ingles. Ah! I – I mean, español. Yo no ... ha- ... hablo -- “

(I do not speak English)

 

The black haired lady chuckled and watched him drink the water, before coming to stand next to him. Her long, elegant neck was decorated in gold necklaces and she had a tattoo on her cheek. Jack, rude and without any inhibitions, leaned forward and squinted at the black markings.

 

“Egyptian?”

“Very good.”

“Oh, you speak English.”

Again, that light-hearted chuckle. Jack felt suddenly very insecure, his lips wet from a nervous lick of his tongue.

“Yes, I do.”

Her accent was light, but her voice was heavy. Like velvet.

“I didn’t know.”

“That’s fine. However, I _do_ know that men only drink for two reasons: celebration or grief. What is it for you?”

Her dark eyes shifted towards him, clearly looking him up and down. When Jack moved, swaying from foot to foot, the metal around his neck sparked up in the omniscient light of the moon. An eyebrow was lifted in response.

“Soldier?”

“Yeaaaaah,” Jack dragged out, before taking a quick swing from his bottle again.

“Well, Maybe you do need another drink, no? Come in.”

Jack was about to follow her, stumbling over his naked feet – he was glad he had remembered to roll up the cuffs of his trousers – when the bouncer joined them. With his stern expression, deep scars mixed with his worry lines and black beanie he almost looked like father who tried to hard to fit in with his teenage son’s friends. Speaking of fitting … Jack’s eyes without any shame wandered over the tight shirt leaving _nothing_ to the imagination, down even to those thick thighs that spoke for themselves, before looking up again – where he was stared down.

 

“Creo que ya tenía suficiente, Ana. Apenas puede pararse.“

(I think he had enough, Ana. He can barely stand.)

 

„English, Gabe ; -- and he deserves another drink. You just can’t stand seeing him dance.“

„What’s wrong with my dancing,“ Jack piped up, chest puffed up and mirroring the stance of Gabe with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He would wake up knowing that in comparison to Gabriel, he had looked like a fool.

“There cannot be a problem with something that doesn’t exist.”

“Are you saying I can’t dance?”

Gabe’s corner of his mouth ticked upward.

 

“Se bueno,” Ana muttered, before excusing herself.

(Be nice)

 

The door swung shut behind her, keeping the smell of hormones, booze, smoke and the thundering music inside.

 

“Yes.”

“I bet I can dance better than you,” Jack muttered, almost tripping over his own feet as he backed away from the curb onto the open, empty street. The narrow alleyway only had space for a few run-down cars to park in, the apartments stretching themselves to he heavens. Every balcony was decorated with flowers and greens, laundry lines connecting the brick buildings like bridges.

When Jack turned around, the man was right there – all muscle and intimidation.

 

“Is that so?”

“… Maybe. No. Probably not.”

Gabe lifted an eyebrow, watching Jack not necessarily back down, but his eyes flitted from left to right, without focusing on the dance instructor. Sighing, Gabe took the drunk by his wrist and dragged his stumbling self back into the restaurant. The wine bottle slipped out of Jack’s hand, clanking against the pavement and rolling down the street under the watchful moon.

 

Their noses were assaulted by the strong smell of sweating and drinking bodies. Instantly, Jack missed the cool breeze outside, wanting nothing more to be under the twinkling stars. Instead, he found himself in the middle of the dance floor with strong hands on his waist and those dark, deep eyes staring right at him.

“Dun, dun, dun.”

“What?”

“That’s the beat. Listen to it. You’re a soldado, right? Soldier? Listen.”

Flushed, Jack tried to move his body in the same effortless way Gabe seemed to be doing, his feet barely moving.

“Eyes up.”

“I don’t want to.”

“No-one appreciates a dance partner who keeps looking at his own feet.”

“Yes, well, you intimidate me.”

Blunt and honest. The soldier looked up and was surprised, when Gabe’s lips ticked into something else than a condescending smirk. A smile, even.

“Good. I like to leave an impression.”

Before Jack could answer, he was spun around and then pulled back against a broad, strong chest. Oh my. He dug his fingers into the shirt, even though it was more like a second skin and when he would pry his hands off of the man later, he’d be surprised that there weren’t indents of his fingers.

 

They weren’t sure how many songs passed. Jack only remembered the first five.

 

During the first one, he had twisted wrong around his feet and had landed on his butt much to his embarrassment and Gabe’s pleasure. Asshole even laughed.

 

In the second song, Gabe insisted on Jack to put his hands on the other man’s _hips_ and he was asked to pay attention to those lewd movements and he wasn’t sure how anybody could pay attention in any of Gabe’s classes if they got to see and _feel_ this.

 

While the lyrics of the third dance promised something of a hot steamy night, Jack had to hide his forming boner. He had decided to dance with his back to Gabe, which the other took as an invitation to grind against him with his breath stroking his neck with every exhale.

 

With the fourth song almost ending, Jack should’ve had more shame but instead he had his arms wrapped around Gabe’s neck, their foreheads pressed together, sharing one, hot breath it seemed.

 

“It seems like some _thing_ seems impressed with me,” Gabe rumbled against Jack’s lips, the fifth song in full swing. Blue eyes hadn’t looked away once from the brown orbs since the song had begun. Not even now, when the blush crept up his neck and filled out his cheeks, the soldier stood strong. Grinding his hips against Gabe’s, he allowed himself a victorious smirk.

 

“I should thank you for those free dance lessons. I'm Jack, by the way.”

“Is that so, _Jack_?”

Jack hummed, before pressing himself closer to the strong body. His lips found Gabe’s earlobe, teeth slightly pulling on it.

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?“

 

Gabe’s hands on his hips came to a stop, having roamed for several minutes and expertly avoided his ass.

 

“That’s French.”

With his drunken mind translating his own mother tongue wrong, Jack chuckled and licked down Gabe’s neck, tasting sweat and the herb after-shave.

“Well, I think I deserve to be a bit frank. After all, we –“

“No, mi guapo soldado,” Gabe said in a teasing tone, eyes sparkling with amusement. He lifted Jack’s chin up with his finger, forcing the man to be confronted with his shame.

“I am Mexican. Not French.”

“O-Oh …”

It seemed like Jack was doomed to carry the blush on his cheeks as an accessoire for the whole night.

 

Suddenly, he felt himself getting dipped, bodies swaying out of their way to give them room. A not-so-manly yelp escaped the soldier’s lips, as his hands scrambled to hold on to Gabe. He felt those strong fingers span across his back and when Gabe lowered his upper body to be closer to Jack, he could feel his heart beat in his throat.

  
“I am guessing what you meant to say was: ¿Quieres dormir conmigo esta noche?“

All Jack could do was nod.

 

To Jack’s relief, the alcohol wore off enough for him to question his morally ambiguous demand of _sleeping with a complete stranger_ when Gabe insisted on walking back to his place.

“Where are your shoes?”

 

It had been the first question when they had embarked on their journey. Jack had just looked down and wiggled his toes once more, almost amused by his own childish display, before grinning at Gabe.

“I think I left them at the hotel. I read something about ‘seizing the day’ and ‘living each day like its your last’ and I thought to myself, _why not_? It’s not like I have a lot to loose on my last day here.”

 

Gabe hummed and they had walked in silence and even if it was uncomfortable at first, Jack’s words clearly hanging between them, it soon smoothened into something more intimate. With the low tune the Mexican sang under his breath, Jack twirled and jumped from curve to curve. He imagined the silent instruments so he could dance – poorly – to the night’s music. Gabe watched him, amused and with adoration long enough for Jack to grow bold once more. He grabbed Gabe by his arms and began to dance. Yes, his steps may have been a mixture between the foxtrot and the tango, but Gabe’s laugh and his louder growing humming – soon turned singing – was all Jack needed to join in.

 

They ended up out of breath and to the brim full of happiness and adrenaline in front of an apartment. It looked blue in the silver tint of the moonlight, the color already peeling off from the walls.

They were sitting on the curb and neither of them were sure why they hadn’t entered the apartment yet. Maybe, because that would’ve meant sex and moans, sweat and untruthful confessions.

 

“A dance instructor.”

“Always liked moving,” Gabe answered.

Jack's shoulder brushed against the other man's as he shifted, lustful energy charging between their cooled off bodies.

“Oh, I bet you do.”

“That wasn’t even sexual.”

“Nope, but we can make it sexual.”

“You’re ridiculous, Jack.”

 

Gabe tipped his head back and Jack copied him. They were silent after that, breeze after breeze seemingly waking them up from the haze both men had been in.

 

“Where are you off to tomorrow?”

“Russia. My flight isn’t until the evening, though.”

Jack took a deep breath.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but … I’m barefoot in Barcelona, sitting on the curb of a deserted street in the middle of the night next to a very attractive man.”

Gabe gave him an eyebrow raise and Jack allowed himself to roll his eyes.

“Oh, shut up. You know you’re hot.”

Their eyes met and Gabe’s flitted down to Jack’s lips – a universal sign that the next step would be a kiss. However, the dance instructor didn’t lean in.

“So, what did you want to say?”  
“I think that can wait until I don’t have a boner anymore.”

Gabe could’ve been the bigger man by insisting Jack to spill whatever had made his eyes glaze over with caution, but he was a simple man with needs; and in this moment, his needs desired Jack to be way more flushed, and way less clothed.

“Por supuesto.”

(Of course)

 

That’s how Jack found himself in Gabe’s rumpled apartment. The moonlight illuminated the various unfinished paintings standing in the corners, the half-opened drawers of the closets and the rustic theme of the interior decorations. Of course, he would appreciated it more, if Gabe’s lips hadn’t been on his the second the door locked behind them.

Hungrily, their mouths crashed against each other and their hands were roaming over their bodies. This time it was Gabe who stumbled, trying to coordinate his way to the bedroom with Jack attached to his body.

“Fuck, you taste good,” Jack moaned, greedily sucking in air, before attacking Gabe’s neck with his lips and teeth, leaving marks that would stay longer than he could.

 

“Bet I can give you something even better to taste.”

Gabe grabbed the blond by his hair and forced him to look up at the other. They were now in the bedroom with two hard-ons and panting breaths.

“Hard or soft.”

“What.”

“Do you want me to fuck your brains out, soldado, or do you want to get reminded of why your body deserves to be worshiped.”

Blushing, Jack swallowed down the words bubbling up in his throat and instead allowed himself to whisper a very breathy: “Why not both?”

The smirk he earned from Gabe let him know everything he needed to know: they were not going to get one wink of sleep tonight.

 

***

“FUCK.”

Sweat was dripping from the soldier’s temple, his legs were shaking. He could feel his third orgasm approaching, cum drying on his stomach that Gabe hadn’t licked off of him just yet.

They hadn’t even fucked. His whole dishevelment came from Gabe sucking his cock, eating him out and twisting his nipples just right. The pale alabaster skin was littered with red marks and scratches and almost every inch of it was covered in some kind of bodily fluid – may it be sweat, cum or spit.

“Please, Gabe, please just … just fuck me, please, fuck, you need to –“

With an obscene lewd sound the other man gave Jack’s member one last suck. How he managed to look so self-assured between pale thighs and saliva connecting the twitching dickhead with his smirk was beyond the soldier.

“Beautiful.”  
“Stop complimenting me take me like you promised me I would,” Jack growled, impatience and overstimulation not a good mix for the farm boy from Indiana. Chuckling, Gabe knew how to shut Jack off with just one lick. Shaking and whimpering, the soldier spread his legs wider, giving the other man more access.

“So impatient, mi corazón.”

Gabe slowly kissed his way up from the hilt of Jack’s dick over his chest, nibbling on each nipple, sucking at the buds and licking over them, before continuing up to Jack’s lips.

“You’re in my bed, soldado, you don’t give the orders here.”

Jack stared up at Gabe with hunger and need, his hands still bound to the bedpost above him. He tried to buck up, to get his thrumming body the friction it desired. Instead of earning a touch, Gabe’s hand settled around his neck and pressed down in a firm warning.

“I tell you when you’re allowed to touch, understood?”

“Yes.”

***

There were tears streaming down his face by now, drool slipping out of his mouth. His hands were unbound now, but that didn’t mean they were of much use to Jack now, besides keeping him somewhat upright. He gripped the head board so tight, his knuckles turned white, as Gabe thrust his cock deeper inside of him.

“Ahhgn, pl- … I … nhgnn”

Barely comprehending words, the soldier rocked forward with each push, his own member bobbing erect against his stomach, but since he had come the fourth time without permission, was now decorated with a red bow that Gabe had sadistically bound.

“What was that, guapo? I don’t think I heard you,” Gabe teased, tongue tasting along Jack’s spine, making the man shiver in response. His whole body felt like it was on fire, each thrust driving him just a bit closer to the edge.

“Oh look at you, my sweet little cock-slut. Are you ready to milk my dick yet? Your hole feels so good around me, tight and hot. Wet. You ready for me to fill you up and stuff you full?”

Jack’s member twitched interested, pre-cum sliding down as he used the headboard to help his over stimulated body to push back and impale himself on Gabe’s cock.

“Please,” he whimpered, toes curling already in anticipation when he felt those strong hands around his waist once more.

“Please, please, pl –“

“Say it.”

Jack felt the fingers dig into his flesh, those strong thighs tensing. Curing his back and craning his head so he could see Gabe’s hungry expression, the way his eyes seemed to just drink in their fill of him, Jack smiled.

“’M yours.”

“Good boy.”

****

 

 

Jack woke up with too little sleep and a foggy head. The sun had tickled him awake and he could barely recall the shower both of them had taken before collapsing in the sheets. The soldier slowly turned onto his stomach to look outside of the window. The streets were busy was cars, honking and excited Spanish chatter filling the hot air. Yawning, the soldier rubbed the sleep out of his deprived eyes, before his eyes caught on to a small succulent sitting on the window shelf in a golden pot.

 

“I see you’re awake. Buenos días.”

“Didn’t think you were the plant type,” Jack retorted and turned to Gabe who was standing in the doorway with low hanging boxers, two cups of coffee and the newspaper wedged between his body and arm. Seeing the man bathed in the warm light of a new day, it ached in his heart to leave this behind.

“Here, thought you might need it after yesterday.”

Blushing, Jack reached up to take the offered cup and winced. His whole lower body ached more than after the drills sergeant made them do.

“Sore?”

“You don’t have to sound so gleeful.”

“Ah, guapo, not glee. I am proud of my work.”

Jack glared at Gabe, but there can only be so much glaring when you were confronted with a deliciously attractive man who smirked just right. With grumble, Jack took a sip of his coffee and waited for Gabe to situate himself back in bed, newspaper unfolded and ready to read, before leaning against him.

 

“Do you need a ride to the airport tonight?”

“I can call an Uber.”

Gabe hummed in acknowledgement, but all it did was remind Jack of the night they had shared, the dancing and the laughing.

“Gabe?”

“Hm?”

“… If I book some dance lesson’s for in, let’s say … four months, would it be available?”

There was a pregnant pause, where Jack, who had decided to look at his cup cowardly and scared of rejection, looked up to see Gabe staring back at him.

“I think I can pencil you in somewhere. Night classes acceptable as well? I’d include a dinner free of charge.”

Jack swallowed, a small smile on his lips.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“You have four months to cancel.”

Instead of answering, Jack decided to kiss that sassy grin right off of Gabe’s lips, almost spilling coffee all over the rumpled sheets.

 

Jack never canceled.


End file.
